


Hello Again

by LaEmperatrizMariana



Category: Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Explicit Language, Food, Gen, Massacre, Me being salty af, Ritualistic Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-10
Updated: 2019-06-10
Packaged: 2020-04-24 01:14:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 11
Words: 15,986
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19162810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaEmperatrizMariana/pseuds/LaEmperatrizMariana
Summary: Tarn is reunited with an old friend, whom he had not seen in the Cybertronian equivalent of several decades. Soon he and his team, are asked to deliver and dish out justice – heavy-handed retribution, to be exact. At a chance of extreme violence and possibly winning the favor of a powerful ally, how could they refuse?





	1. Location: Zero Point

**Author's Note:**

> This story was beta-read by: [Tentaculiferous](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Tentaculiferous/profile).
> 
> The title comes from the Skrillex song, "[Rock N’ Roll (Will Take You To The Mountain)](https://youtu.be/eOofWzI3flA)". ~~[Skip to 1:53](https://youtu.be/eOofWzI3flA?t=113), and you'll see why I picked it.~~
> 
> Its concept was relatively simple, but due to various reasons, it went from 6 chapters to 11 chapters. O_O;; Originally, I was torn between picking the DJD or the Scavengers, but a friend suggested the former. Needless to say, the DJD were the better option for the way this particular story progresses.

    A week ago, an unnamed vessel belonging to Decepticon mercenary, the Implicitly Appointed Enforcer of the Tyrest Accord, Lockdown, approached the smoldering remnants of a Cybertronian colony called “Prion”. As stipulated by the Tyrest Accord, Lockdown and his crew had no choice but to investigate what had happened, and rescue any survivors. After a couple of hours, they discovered that Prion was a colony of minibots and minicons, who all were brutally massacred.

    Most of the crew was annoyed that they had to tediously document the findings, and take photos of the gruesome evidence. (If they had their way, they’d have salvaged the minibots and minicons for parts and leave in a quarter of the time.) But these boring formalities were the trade-off for how _well_ the chief justice, author of the Tyrest Accord, paid them.

    Just then, Lockdown received an incoming message that was sent to his ship. It said, “Incoming message from the Peaceful Tyranny.”

    “Fuck off,” muttered Lockdown as he quickly scribbled his notes and hurried to answer the call, which he projected on his communicube.

    On the screens, was “Tarn”, leader of the DJD. He said, “It has come to my attention that your crew is currently performing an investigation on Prion on what has recently occurred there. I would like to have a word with you about this matter.”

    “Okay, but we’re still busy trying to identify all these victims,” replied Lockdown. “Not sure if we could afford to sit and chat. Our schedule is pretty tight right now.”

    “That’s understandable,” replied Tarn. “If you’d like, my team and I will assist in your search to speed things up. We will arrive within half an hour. See you soon.” At that, Tarn hung up.

    “Son of a Glitch!” cried Lockdown.

    Seeing Lockdown frustrated in the distance, Lugnut transformed and approached him. “What is it?”

    “The DJD are going to be here in 30 minutes,” replied Lockdown. “Tarn probably wants to pick-off the t-cogs, I mean, ‘tamper with evidence’. None of us can afford to mess this up or else we’d all get fired and blacklisted from legitimate employments.”

    “Wait, have you reported your findings to the chief justice yet?” asked Lugnut.

    “No,” said Lockdown. “I was going to do this _after_ we finished because he’d ask us a shit-ton of questions. I can’t embarrass myself in front of him.”

    “If you haven’t told him, then he wouldn’t know,” said Lugnut. “Talk to Tarn and let him deal with this mess. If he wants to pick them apart, that’s his choice. Besides, the DJD coming on board traitor ships and killing hundreds of the crewmembers is not unheard of. Them being involved wouldn't seem out of character.”

    “Damn it,” hissed Lockdown. “I wanted spare parts. We’ve wasted 3 hours for nothing!”

    Meanwhile, the Peaceful Tyranny was preparing for landing as Vos stared out the window. Concerned, Tarn asked him, in Primal Vernacular, “What are you looking at?”

    “I could’ve sworn this planet had a single moon,” replied Vos as he pointed out the window.

    “You’re confusing it with Messantine,” said Tarn. “Most planets have more than one moon. Single-moon planets such as Messantine and Erph are uncommon exceptions.”

    “I thought that planet was named ‘Earth’,” replied Kaon.

    “No, it’s ‘Erph’, that’s how it’s spelled in the official map of the Milky Way Galaxy,” replied Tarn.

    Kaon checked the map Tarn referred to. “Huh…Interesting.” Still, the name of the planet seemed wrong to him. Along with the other planets from that star system such as – Marie Curie, Venous, Maus, Júbitor, Sattern, Yureinas, Nap’Toon, and Pluto. However, Kaon didn’t know enough about this star system (where the humans inhabited) to dispute the misspellings.

    Bored, Tesarus asked Tarn, “So when was the last time you’ve been to Prion?”

    “I’ve never been,” replied Tarn. “I did have a chance long ago because my friend invited me, but then, those Functionist bastards arrested me and mutilated my body.”

    Tesarus took off his X-shaped visor, eyeballing Tarn with his four beady eyes, from Tarn’s face all the way down to his feet and back up to his face again. As far as Tesarus was concerned, his leader was complete. “Where?”

    Tarn laughed and walked over to Tesarus. He then whispered loudly, so the rest of the team could hear him, “I wasn’t always a tank.”

    “Duh,” said Tesarus. “When we go gestalt, we see you as a purple minicon who turns into a tiny-ass economy car.”

    “Heh…” chuckled Tarn. “Yes, but I meant I was an empurata victim. The ones who repaired me went above and beyond. Not just my body but in how my spark sees itself. I’m still disappointed that my spark doesn’t see itself as a powerful tank.”

    “The tiny-ass economy car is cute though,” replied Tesarus, whose face flushed all of a sudden. “I mean…”

    Tarn raised an eyebrow, fortunately his mask covered it. The seatbelt light started blinking and everyone strapped themselves in, except for the Pet, but Kaon held on to him tightly with his right arm.

    The Peaceful Tyranny landed near Lockdown’s ship. Once settled, the DJD approached Lockdown and his crew, armed with handheld lifeforce-detection radars. Kaon spoke in Primal Vernacular. He then repeated himself in Neocybex, “Everyone split up and search for survivors…and the target.”

    Kaon and his teammates departed, leaving Tarn alone with Lockdown and his crew. Lockdown tried to remain calm. Tarn had always made him feel  uncomfortable – by both his intimidating presence and inherent sensuality. The way Tarn was searched through his subspace didn’t help Lockdown feel any better. Finding the tablet he was looking for, Tarn asked, “Have you seen this person?”

    Lockdown shook his head and Tarn couldn’t help but feel very disappointed. But then, Tarn didn’t expect much from someone like Lockdown.


	2. The Two Search Parties

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've taken creative liberties in writing characters who have appeared in Season 2 MTMTE. So if they seem OOC, that's just how it is for the sake of storytelling. :P

    The rest of the DJD had traveled far from the landing point, already covering more ground than Lockdown’s crew had done during their 3 hour stay. (To be fair, the DJD had experience tracking down traitors and enjoyed the thrill of the hunt.) The only thing that Lockdown’s did more efficiently than the DJD was retreat. As soon as Tarn had dismissed Lockdown, telling him that he and his teammates would resume the search, Lockdown and his crew rushed to their ship. In less than 45 seconds, their ship was already airborne. Tarn, of course, said nothing. After all, Lord Megatron performed various tactical retreats during the Great War, even if the retreats seemed to be over a minor inconvenience.

    Tarn hadn’t pulled out his radar yet when he heard a small cry for help nearby. He saw a pile of rubble, from what seemed to be a demolished guard outpost. Tarn hardly knew anything about Prion, other than it was a colony of minibots and minicons who embraced their small stature in reverence to Micronus Prime. The pile was way too heavy for a little mech to push off. As he dug, Tarn said to the victim, “Hold on…”

    Finally, he uncovered the minibot, whose body was crushed, and a pallid gray. Seeing that the minibot was unresponsive, Tarn checked his pulse but felt nothing. In fact, the minibot had been cold to the touch. Thinking that minibots lose heat quickly due to their small size, Tarn attempted to at least clean up the minibot, only to see that his pallid gray exterior wasn’t actually dust. Clearly the minibot was long dead. Tarn took a step back and heard other faint cries in the wind, coming from all directions. Concerned, Tarn spoke to his teammates as a conference call, “If you find any living minis, dig them out.”

    There was a dialing noise and Tesarus spoke, “Okay, but everybody I’ve found so far is dead.”

    Helex wanted to say something about what he has seen so far, but Tesarus got straight to the point.  But Helex wondered – _are all dead_?

    In the distance, he saw a slender red mech with a distinct white crest, accompanied by two mechs. One was a tall teal and white mech whose helm had six yellow headlights on it. The other was a small olive mech whose legs were a single wheel. All three were searching the ruins and taking notes of the carnage. Helex’s finials twitched, the lifeforce-detector radar hadn’t notified him of their presence. Placing his larger hands around his mouth, Helex shouted at them in Neocybex, “Hey!”

    The olive mech, looked at his direction and nudged his red superior. The red superior handed him his tablet. Then covered himself and his two assistants with his black cape, turning into a dark smoke which dissipated and reappeared in front of Helex. After the smoke settled, the three mechs stood before him. The red superior smiled and his teal assistant asked Helex politely, “Yes?”

    “I was talking to the Red Guy,” said Helex.

    “Our leader, Censere, is mute,” replied the teal mech.

    “Oh…” said Helex. “Are you the search party?”

    Censere signalled to his assistant to continue, trying to move past Helex’s faux pas.

    “Of course,” replied the teal mech. He put his hand on the small olive mech’s shoulder, “Kaput sent out a distress signal that his people had been under attack. But when we arrived, almost everyone had gone offline, except for one person. You’re looking for the sole survivor too, right?”

    “I hope so,” replied Helex.

    “What was his name?” asked the teal mech as he looked through his tablet.

    “Her,” replied Helex. “Her name is Nickel of Tarn. She was my leader’s close childhood friend. She had been stationed on this colony for the past 3 astral decades.”

    “Nickel was in the clinic with me,” interrupted Kaput.

    “Where is this clinic?” asked Helex.

    “Over there,” replied Kaput as he pointed southwest. “Like 3 breems away.”

    “Vos went over there,” replied Helex. Who pulled out his com. “Damn it! I don’t know Primal Vernacular to tell him. Hold on, let me call Kaon.”

    “Excuse me, Censere, sir,” said Kaput. “Can’t you teleport us and this tall gentlemech to the clinic? I remember that the building collapsed, although Nickel was hiding in a shelter in the basement.”

    Censere shook his head and took a deep breath. It appeared his teleportation was a special ability which had its cooldown time before it could be attempted again. Teleportation was one of the most difficult abilities to master. The user must pour all of their mental and physical concentration into it – unless they were some gifted outlier, like the famous Decepticon seeker (and President Starscream’s fellow trinemate) Skywarp. Being able to teleport with other passengers, is indicative of an extremely adept user.

    The teal mech looked at his tablet and said to Helex, “Nickel of Tarn isn’t on the list. There’s a chance that she’s still operational.”

    “Let me see that,” said Helex as he grabbed the tablet from the teal mech. Helex stared at it for a second, he didn’t know what he was expecting but the list itself was written in Primal Vernacular. He returned it to the teal mech.

    As soon as Censere felt cooled down, he picked up Kaput and handed him to the teal mech to carry. He opened up Helex’s smelter and sat them both inside. It was then that he attempted to cover Helex with his cape, whose interior lining resembled the galaxies. The last thing Helex remembered was being mesmerized by the cape’s vibrant colors, which moved like live video, before Censere quickly uncovered his head. They were at the clinic and Censere was already helping his assistants out of the smelter.

    Helex’s lifeforce-detection radar started to beep. Someone was there and he hurried to the location as the other three resumed their body count of the dead. Helex put away his radar and began to dig through the debris until he uncovered the victim. Despite being badly crushed and covered with dust, the victim was clearly Nickel but she was unconscious.

    “Kaput!” yelled Helex.

    Kaput stopped his search and hurried over to Helex, as his companions observed.

    “You’re a doctor, do something!” he cried.

    “Set her on that slab,” said Kaput, as he looked for usable supplies. “Trepan, help me!”

    Trepan looked at Censere, who pointed at Kaput and then at a medicine cabinet on the right

    “Yes sir,” replied Trepan, as he retracted his needles and hacked into the medicine cabinet. He brought the fluids and other unbroken medicine cubes to Kaput. Kaput inserted an IV on Nickel’s left arm, while Trepan lifted the IV bag, so the gravity could do the rest.

    “Big boy, hold this for me,” said Trepan to Helex, as he handed him the bag. Helex held it while Trepan and Kaput began to gently hammer out her dents, to alleviate the pressure on her organs.

    The comotion attracted Vos’ attention. He transformed into a gun and saw Helex overseeing the two medics trying to stabilize Nickel, through his sniper scope. Vos transformed back into a robot, but leapt into the air during the transformation and landed gracefully on Helex’s shoulder. Vos pulled out his com-link and spoke via conference call to the others, informing them that Nickel had been found, but in was poor condition.

    Moments later, the Peaceful Tyranny landed nearby and opened. Helex, Vos, Kaput, and Trepan hurried to take Nickel to the ship’s medibay. Although she was unconscious, she was in stable condition. Meanwhile, Tarn called Kaon and Tesarus to return to the ship, since Nickel had been found.

    Tarn sat back in his captain chair and took a deep breath. He needed to calm himself before seeing his dear friend, because the last thing he wanted to do was make a scene.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just thought it would be cool to give Censere teleportation abilities similar to Overwatch's Reaper.


	3. The Feral Prophet

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nickel sounds like Nicki Minaj in this story. But if you already have your own voice actress headcanon for her you can imagine her as such too. It really makes no difference. I just thought I should mention it.

    Kaon went to check on Tarn, who was still sitting on his captain’s chair clutching his chest. He had removed his mask and was quietly gasping for breath. Tarn has seen many brutal deaths (mostly from murdering traitors) but had caught a glimpse of Nickel’s injuries and was sickened by it. Kaon sat in a seat next to him, and signaled to The Pet to climb on Tarn’s lap so he could pet him.

    Tarn gently stroked The Pet’s metallic fur and said to Kaon, as calmly as possible, “Whoever did that to Nick must die.”

    “Tell me about Nick,” said Kaon.

    “She was the only one roughly my age, when I was growing up,” said Tarn. “I know that in those times, the rich would not mingle with their poor servants, but my family didn’t have much of a choice and let us play together. She had a knack of repairing things I accidentally broke with my abilities. I thought she was going to be an engineer but no, she decided to be a medic. I managed to convince my family to help pay for her tuition. Nick is stubborn, so it comforts me to know that even now, she refuses to die.”

    Tarn then told Kaon and The Pet various anecdotes about his adventures with Nickel, when he was a young minibot before his mutilation from empurata.

    Helex, Vos, and Tesarus were in the kitchen deciding on what to eat. Little did they know, that Censere had followed them. As they discussed what to make, Censere walked past them undetected. He made his way into the meat locker and began to document the names of the traitors that were still in there.

    Vos hissed.

    Tesarus said to Helex, “I think Vos wants pizza.”

    Vos nodded in agreement. To him, pizza was always good especially as part of celebration because as far as he was concerned, Tarn was happily reunited with his friend. Helex ordered them to help him gather the ingredients. Vos entered the meat locker, and grabbed a leg. Censere glared at him coldly, but not judgmentally. As Vos was leaving the meat locker, he realized Censere was in there and went to go check, only to find that Censere was gone.

    About 20 minutes or so passed that Tarn felt comfortable-enough to head to the medibay. The first thing Tarn noticed was Nickel was still her same Bermuda Turquoise color with chrome accents. (Unlike the other pallid gray minibots that Tarn kept finding, buried under the rubble.) Trepan was busy reattaching her right arm which Vos had recovered.

    “Excuse me,” said Kaput, who carried a bucket of water and several soft cloths. Tarn was in his way. As Tarn moved out of the way, his gaze was locked on Kaput who resumed cleaning Nickel with the cloths. Tarn’s gaze then shifted to Trepan, who didn’t make him feel any better.

    Trepan whispered to Kaput, unaware of Tarn’s sensitive hearing, “He sees us for what we truly are. But at least, his friend won’t end up like us…”

    Kaput sighed in agreement as he wringed out a cloth. He began to wipe Nickel some more until she was shiny but he was doing it with less enthusiasm as before.

    “What’s wrong?” asked Trepan.

    “Nickel wasn’t at the shelter,” replied Kaput.

    “Heh…perhaps that’s why she survived,” said Trepan. “Oh…I’m guessing the rest of the staff and the patients were in that shelter too…. My apologies.”

    Tarn finally spoke, “What are you two?”

    Trepan shot a glance at Kaput, before replying. “Servants of Mortilus. I was executed and Kaput was sacrificed. Both of us got resurrected but now we’re bound to serve Mortilus’ Reincarnation, ‘The Necrobot’, for eternity. However, living mechs shouldn’t be able to see the extent of our lethal injuries unless they’ve been resurrected themselves.”

    Kaput lowered his monocle to take a good look at Tarn. Tarn looked a bit sick, in his opinion. “Hmm…I’m guessing you were poisoned. Because there’s no way such a robust and powerful mech like you would die so ‘cleanly’. Perhaps you were betrayed because you don’t seem like the type to poison himself, if cornered. You would fight to the death like any other ‘honorable warrior’.”

    Tarn was too embarrassed to admit that he died because he randomly grabbed a chemical Pharma was making and chugged it without bothering to ask what it did. But then, Tarn was so tired of everything in his life that he honestly didn’t care.

    “I may not believe in the legends involving ancient gods, but I do believe that there is _some_ truth to them,” said Tarn. “The reincarnations, for example, they sound like mechs who are more powerful and rarer than point-one percenters.”

    “That is true,” replied Trepan. “Would you believe that some Neo-Primalists think that these reincarnations need to be protected? Ha! It is us that need protection against them…”

    Tarn couldn’t help but be intrigued. Trepan mentioned that he served The Necrobot, which only meant that this powerful mech was somewhere nearby. Tarn wanted to see for himself how powerful this mech truly was. Trepan and Kaput were both clearly ex-Autobots, which led him to believe that The Necrobot was likely an ex-Autobot himself or a neutral. Either way, the Decepticons could use such a powerful ally in their war against the Autobots.

    Suddenly, the room temperature dropped and Tarn felt pressure in his chest. His limbs were numb, and he felt as if he was glued to the floor. Managing to remove his mask as he gasped for breath, Tarn felt a sensation of impending doom and for the first time in his life – he was afraid to turn around. The last time he felt such immense fear was when several large mechs, acting on behalf of the Functionists, arrested him. But this time, the fear was much worse.

    He heard a soft gentle voice, which seemed to speak directly to his soul, “Ah…so you’re the one who got away…”

    Having no choice but to face his fear, Tarn turned around and saw Censere standing behind him, holding a bouquet of blue flowers, while using an empty Vosnian wine bottle as a vase. Although, Censere appeared to be a humble peaceful mech, he was also appeared to be the type to relish in bloodshed and death – much more than Overlord. While Tarn still doubted the mysticism surrounding The Necrobot, he couldn’t deny Censere’s immense power.

    Tarn blurted out, “Are you an Autobot?”

    “The Autobots’ motto is ‘Freedom is the right of all sentient beings’,” replied Censere. “But freedom is an illusion, and I have too much integrity to be part of a faction whose promise is essentially worthless. I'm not an Autobot.”

    “Will you join the Decepticons, then?” asked Tarn, who started to hum quietly. Hoping to decrease Censere’s threatening aura.

    “Given that your faction requires one to pledge their life and soul to the Decepticon Cause, I cannot,” replied Censere, seemingly unaffected by Tarn’s humming. “My soul already belongs to Mortilus and I cannot give away what is no longer mine…but if you’d like, I’d be more than happy to fight alongside you and your teammates. At least when the moment arrives.”

    Tarn found none of Censere’s words comforting. He knew that if Censere was given the chance, he’d harvest his spark, in the same way he harvested those eerie blue flowers that made up his bouquet.

    The menacing aura in the room was disrupted by Nickel’s sudden cough. Tarn rushed over to Nickel and said to her, “Nickel, are you alright?”

    Nickel’s face went red and the emotion meter she had on her helm, quickly pointed at the red zone. The last thing she remembered was the clinic’s ceiling collapsing on her. She had also remembered hearing that once a spark arrived before the Allspark, they would be greeted by the thickest son of a glitch imaginable, and Nickel never imagined being up close to a mech as thick as Tarn. Nickel looked away and saw Kaput, whose last memory of him was his gruesome death. Yet Kaput was as she saw him earlier that fateful day; happy, cheerful, and uninjured. She touched her face and said to Censere, “What happened to my friend, Damus?”

    Censere shot a glance at Tarn, as if to say, “Tell her…”

    “He got an upgrade,” replied Tarn, “because I am Damus of Tarn…”


	4. The Rule of Beasts

    Nickel gasped, and not thinking twice, she slapped Tarn’s thigh. “I should’ve known! You’re the only one who wouldn’t hesitate to kink-enable me in the afterlife, Damus.”

    “This isn’t the afterlife,” said Trepan. “You’re the sole survivor of this horrible massacre. Kaput was resurrected by Mortilus, so he doesn’t count.”

    Nickel turned to Kaput, grabbing him by the collar and said, “You told me that you were calling for help! But my guts would not believe you, _especially_ when the power went out! What. The. FUCK?!”

    Calm because he was already dead, Kaput replied, “I _did_ call for help, but help in avenging our deaths. At that point, it was clear that rescuing us was out of the question. So, I prayed to my god…”

    “…You blew off your own head!” cried Nickel. “I fucking saw you!”

    “A blood sacrifice is required to commune with Mortilus,” replied Trepan. “Mecha sacrifice, however, is the more valuable than a simple blood sacrifice. Especially, if the mecha offered in sacrifice is yourself…”

    Nickel squealed in frustration. The week had already been crazy-enough, (excluding the massacre) and she didn’t have the energy to deal with nonsense. She also didn’t know what was the worse whiplash; finding out that her childhood friend had become unfathomably sexy or finding out that the sweet-looking shy medic on the team was a devoted Mortilus Cultist. Looking through her subspace, Nickel pulled out a cigarette. “When I open my eyes on the count of three, I expect this cigarette to be lit. If not, I’m gonna kick all your butts.” Nickel closed her eyes, “One…Two…”

    Unthreatened but wanting to humor Nickel, Censere got one of the blue flowers from his bouquet and tapped the end of the cigarette with its petals, lighting it up.

    “…Three!” said Nickel, who immediately opened her eyes and saw that the cigarette was lit, but she didn’t smell a lighter. She shrugged and began to smoke.

    Just then, Kaon, Vos, and the Pet entered the medibay carrying a plate full of overly cheesy pizza slices, in the traditional style of Tarn. Trepan looked at the food and wrinkled his nose in disgust before resuming his work. (Trepan no longer found food enjoyable, but this was a side-effect from his resurrection.)

    Vos took off his mask and placed it on the counter. He then got a thin slice of pizza and placed it on the mask. Sensing the food, the spikes on the mask retracted and ground up the pizza slice into a sauce. Then Vos got the mask and put it on, happily slurping the sauce. Meanwhile, Kaon ate his pizza slice like a normal person and put another slice on a napkin, which he then placed on the floor for The Pet to eat.

    Tarn observed his teammates, all oblivious to Trepan’s and Kaput’s undead state. Tarn was more disturbed over Trepan’s and Kaput’s serenity, both of whom had very traumatic deaths. But his train of thought was interrupted when Kaon nudged Tarn.

    “Do you want a slice?” asked Kaon. “Helex is making more pizzas, at least for our guests and Nickel.”

    “Nickel wouldn’t be able to eat pizza today,” replied Kaput, who had finished cleaning her. “Although her fuel tank and the rest of her organs were unharmed, this experience has been too shocking for her.”

    Ignoring the doctor’s advice, as he always had done, Tarn got a medium-sized pizza slice and handed it to Nickel. Nickel handed Trepan the cigarette, which he extinguished by slicing off part of the end and having the still burning pieces fall into the dirty water bucket. Without asking what the ground meat topping was made of (Transformer meat…er, “Cybertronian living metal”), she took a big bite of the slice. “Oh shit! This is good!”

    Kaput’s eyes widened when he saw Nickel happily eat the pizza. For Nickel, it had been too long since she had anything remotely similar to Tarnian deep dish pizza.

    Vos hissed and said, “We ran out of cheese that we were forced to use government cheese. You know, the powered ration one that you must mix with water and butter. But we ran out of butter too, so we used the artificial butter. But Helex and Tesarus know what they’re doing. They can turn garbage into fine delicacies.”

    Moments later, Helex and Tesarus entered the medibay with the rest of the pizza they made. Trying to figure out what was happening, Tarn was asking Trepan, “So you are all Mortilus cultists, correct?”

    “Yes,” replied Trepan. “We travel the galaxies writing down the names of deceased Cybertronians in the Book of the Dead and give them Last Rites, if needed. There’s more than us three, by the way. The rest are on board our aptly-named warworld, Necroworld.”

    “Necroworld?” asked Tesarus, as he recalled hearing about it during his childhood. He pointed at Trepan, “Are you the Necrobot?”

    “No, it’s him,” replied Trepan, as he pointed at Censere.

    Nickel said, “Necrobot! Can’t you use your powers to mass-resurrect everyone?”

    “It’s unsafe,” replied Trepan and Tarn simultaneously. They exchanged looks and Tarn resumed translating what Censere was telling them. “Those organic murderers plan to return soon, to make sure every single mechanical lifeform on this planet is dead. It seems the only reason they stopped their attack was because they needed reinforcements.” Tarn’s mask hid his disgust.

    “Censere says that he can still feel the organic’s conversations in the wind,” replied Trepan. “It’s not so much ‘reinforcements’ as it is, colonizing this planet for their kind. They are bringing their own civilians. Since this planet can support organic lifeforms, there was no need to terraform it. This is perfect, because they let down their guard and will now pay, blood for blood. The problem is that the living must mask their energy signatures. That way, we could slaughter them mercilessly by surprise.”

    “Wait, a colony with civilians means they have kids with them,” said Nickel.

    “These organics didn’t hesitate to kill our sparklings in cold blood,” replied Kaput nonchalantly. His replied unsettled Nickel. “You shouldn’t hesitate about this plan either. It is fair and just…”

    “But…” replied Nickel.

    “There are no ‘buts’ and there _shouldn’t_ be,” replied Kaput, as he searched his subspace and pulled out an experimental bazooka. “I didn’t steal this damned thing from the Kimia Facility, back when I worked there, in case I were to ever need it, just to hear this load of shit. I prayed for brutal retaliation for what was done to these innocents, and my spark will not rest until everything’s been paid for. You have been here for much longer than I have, there’s no doubt that Prion was your home. Surely it should pain you, much more than me, that many of our beloved friends and patients, were all unjustly murdered. Their only crime being children of Primus, just like us.”

    Nickel’s large blue eyes began to water.

    “That is enough!” snapped Tarn, as he gently petted Nickel in an attempt to calm her down. He was conflicted over this matter. He didn’t want Nickel to to suffer more than what she had already gone through, but at the same time, he agreed wholeheartedly with Kaput, as did the rest of the DJD.

    Trepan’s eyes widened since in his undead state neither he nor Kaput should be able to feel such strong, passionate emotions. Censere observed and thought about his next move. As far as he was concerned, Mortilus was pleased with Kaput’s undying devotion and as Mortilus’ reincarnation, Censere had a duty to reward Kaput for his strong faith.

    Censere mumbled. Which surprised Helex, in particular, because he didn’t know someone mute was still capable of making sound. Tarn understood Censere, who suggested they hide on Necroworld to await the arrival of the organics. He took Tarn by the hand, and threw his cape over him as both dissolved into smoke.

    Helex looked at Trepan and said, “I’ve never seen someone teleport like that. Does he do it because from his own ability or from using that magic rainbow cape?

    “From his own ability,” replied Trepan. “I’ve seen him do it without his cape. But he likes to wear the cape because he’s always cold and he likes to look fashionable.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> > “Violence for violence is the rule of beasts.”[ \- Former United States President, Barrack Obama (2016).](https://kumagawa.tumblr.com/post/149460046939/had-a-dream-obama-and-the-guy-who-plays-air-guitar)  
> 


	5. The Endless Fields of Blue

    Tarn and Censere reappeared in the navigation room. Carefully Censere, set his vase on a nearby cupholder and pointed at the windshield towards his upper right-hand side. “That is Necroworld. To the unknowing eye it looks like a small harmless moon. However, we must act quickly.”

    Censere pulled out a syringe from his subspace, filled with what appeared to be synthetic energon, and injected himself on his left thigh. His eyes began to glow green, as he quickly recharged. Suddenly, his red plating turned into an ashen lilac color, as the room began to be consumed by light turning everything white. Tarn felt a pull, as if the Peaceful Tyranny warped. The room’s bright whiteness began to fade away and Tarn looked outside. They were no longer on a barren, scorched plain, but on a grassy meadow surrounded by rolling hills and eerie blue flowers.

    “Where are we?” asked Tarn.

    “Welcome to Necroworld,” chuckled Censere. “It is intended to be a mobile mausoleum, a tranquil place for the death to actually rest in peace. The main florae are these blue flowers.” Censere showed Tarn the vase. “Spark-flowers, made of the spark residue of the deceased.”

    It was then, that Tarn recognized the vase. It was one of the various empty Vosnian wine bottles that they had stored in the kitchen to use as Polyhexian Cocktails. The fact Censere had it, meant he was in the kitchen examining the traitors in the meat locker. Tarn’s face turned red when he realized that Censere, an obscenely powerful mech that appeared interested in assisting Decepticons, had seen his heavily-damaged kitchen. The embarrassment was nearly crippling. As far as Tarn was concerned, Censere probably thought of DJD as slobs.

    Since Censere wasn’t omniscient, he assumed Tarn was disturbed about Necroworld. “It is said that the sight of these vast fields of spark-flowers would make a genocidal despot weep. But we all know the truth; such a depot would only weep performatively, so the unwitting public could believe he has atoned for his sins, while he remains completely unrepentant.”

    Although he found the spark-flowers interesting, Tarn was busy thinking about how he was going to tailor his Pro-Decepticon propaganda, so that Censere would find it appealing. It was then that he realized he had to somehow tie it to Mortilus Cultism, but he hardly knew anything about that sect. Tarn was aware that the Neo-Primalists considered the cultists murderers. But then, Tesarus was a cultural Mortilus Cultist, and all he ever talked about was perfume anytime “religion” was brought up.

    “You and your companions are more than welcome to explore Necroworld while we await the inevitable destruction of these organics,” said Censere as he grabbed his vase. He looked through his subspace and threw a small pouch to Tarn. “If you need me, call me using those.”

    Censere smiled, before teleporting out of the room. Tarn headed back to the medibay and saw his teammates still eating pizza but Trepan and Kaput were gone.

    “They left and never even tried the pizza,” said Helex sadly.

    “Perhaps they’re vegetarians,” said Kaon. “The taller one looked disgusted by the meat.”

    “I’m pretty sure he knew what it was made out of,” said Tarn.

    “What’s it made out of?” asked Nickel, innocently.

    Realizing that average Tarnians aren’t cannibals, Tarn said, “It’s pepperoni. You know, whatever the usual droid meat for that is. The Necrobot told us we could go out and explore Necroworld while we wait for the organics.”

    “We’re on Necroworld?!” gasped Tesarus.

    Petting the Pet, Kaon whispered to Nickel, “I’ve never seen him this excited about anything.”

    Tesarus began to explain to them what he had heard about Necroworld. It was a beautiful planet with abundant florae, like how the city-state of Tesarus was before its fascist dictatorship which destroyed many of the meadows and farmland for the sake of “development”. Tesarus, the DJD member, had vague memories of his homeland before the dictatorship. He remembered growing up in the farm, harvesting hay for the livestock, as a sparkling. In his free time, he liked to collect wild herbs to grind and give to his carrier. Perhaps the sudden change from rural life to living in a cheaply constructed apartment in the city was too extreme that Tesarus blocked out his memories of it. The cold and heavily structured routine made him feel as if he lived in a prison, and that’s where the hopelessness crept in. Since his situation going to change, or so he thought, there was nothing to look forward to and nothing interested him.

    His teammates and Nickel listened on, as his conversation shifted from talking about the Necrobot planted his spark-flowers in front of the statues of those who killed them, to him personally toppling the statues of the fascist dictators that had destroyed the endless farmland he remembered from his youth. Nickel was more concerned about the fact that the topic had turned into a political rant, but the rest of the DJD didn’t mind. After all, they knew his anecdote had a happy ending – Tesarus became a Decepticon city-state and the dictator, along with the other prominent regime members, were publicly executed. And of course, the lands were given back to the farmers who had been stripped of them because many of them opposed the dictatorship.

    After politely clapping, Tarn picked up Nickel and led the team outside. Nickel wasn’t amused about being carried (many minis hate to be picked up against their will) but at the same time, her feelings towards her friend’s upgraded body were too strong.

    Tesarus’ eyes widened when he saw the vast fields of spark-flowers. While the others stood quietly listening to a gentle chiming, Tesarus knew that that music didn’t come from wild droids but was the faint cries of the slain. He thought this was all too badass, that the only thing left to do was enjoy it.

    Censere was waiting for them, just outside accompanied by a large mech who was an old miner Before Censere’s large companion opened his mouth, Nickel asked, “Where’s Kaput?”

    “He’s busy,” replied the old miner. Pointing at Censere with his thumb, he added, “Our foreman told him to go to the sauna and try to relax. Everyone is safe.”

    “Safe?” asked Nickel, almost indignantly.

    “Their bodies are tended in the fields,” replied the old miner. “The workers are busy repairing them since Mortilus decided to give most of them a second chance. The ones who chose to move on had their reasons, so it wasn’t for us to decide who stays and who goes. Pets and livestock are being given similar treatment.”

    Censere mumbled something.

    “He says that Prion will be relocated to a more discreet location,” said the old miner. “He has someone who owes him and Mortilus many favors, so y’all don’t need to worry about them. However, Kaput is here to stay for obvious reasons and won’t be joining them.”

    As much as Nickel disliked the miner’s reply, in terms of Kaput’s fate, he wasn’t wrong. The old miner narrowed his eyes and added, “You probably won’t either, young lady.”

    Tarn had been staring at the old miner since he laid eyes on him. Not so much because the old miner was legless, but he looked familiar. Clearing his throat, Tarn asked politely, “Excuse me, do you happen to know a humble but poetic miner from Tarn named Megatron?”

    The old miner froze, unsure of what to say and sighed, “Yes, he’s my son.”

    “Primus, it’s Terminus!” shouted Tarn, as he and his teammates were excited to meet him. Unlike his teammates, Tarn’s excitement was short-lived. If Terminus was onboard Necroworld, it meant that Terminus had died and he couldn’t help but feel sorrow for his beloved Lord Megatron, whose carrier and sole parent had vanished “under mysterious circumstances.”

    Lord Megatron had dedicated the First Edition of his acclaimed autobiography “Towards Peace” to Terminus, his carrier, but the dedication and his name in the text had been removed in later editions. Once, a few years ago Tarn had the privilege of meeting with Lord Megatron one-on-one and asked him why he had removed his carrier’s name.

    Lord Megatron replied coldly, “My carrier told me not to get attached.” And proceeded to end that conversation right then and there.

    Noticing Terminus’ uncomfortable expression, Tarn wondered if perhaps there were political reasons for the omission. Was it for Terminus’ safety, or perhaps feelings of guilt and remorse?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Terminus had worked in the mines all his life and that's why he calls Censere, the foreman. (This is also under the assumption that the boss of this entire operation is Mortilus himself.)


	6. Not what you wanted to hear.

    Censere and Terminus led the DJD and Nickel along a brief tour of Necroworld. They had also brought some maps to give to them. The closest statue from their ship belonged to a Decepticon, but it was still some distance away. Terminus told them about the spark-flowers, that the Necrobot turned the spark residue of the deceased into flowers, which he then collected to plant near the statues of whoever killed them. However, the spark-flowers had minds of their own (they’re still sparks, even if tiny), and spread out to wherever they pleased. Regardless, the Necrobot and his assistants still had to care for the flowers until they eventually faded away because they became one with the Allspark.

    As they got closer to the first statue, Terminus said to them disapprovingly, “This plot belongs to the infamous Mad Doctor of Sector Zero Six – Lockdown. I’m at a loss for words since this mech once studied to become a doctor. I don’t understand how anyone would go from such a selfless and noble profession to killing people for their body parts. He is a shameless mech but apparently, there’s worse than him out there.”

    “So he lied about Prion?” asked Helex, both disturbed and impressed.

    “No!” said Terminus. “He legitimately arrived here to investigate the attack out of a strong crippling feeling of guilt. The fact he can _still_ feel guilt surprises me. Prion was destroyed by disgusting organics.”

    Terminus continued to explain what Censere was telling them about Lockdown, but he struggled with it since he was a humble miner and was getting confused about the politics behind bounty-hunting. Tarn understood Censere clearly. Lockdown’s highest-paying employer was the Chief Justice, author of the Tyrest Accord. (Not only did he pay Lockdown better, but working for him included various perks like free higher education and monthly food rations.) So whatever the Chief Justice ordered Lockdown to do, it was of higher importance than all his other jobs, except if he was following Lord Megatron’s orders. Despite Censere being straightforward about Lockdown’s treacherous tendencies, Tarn was more disgusted about all the nice things Lockdown got for working for the Chief Justice. To Tarn, Lockdown was undeserving of them all.

    Vos hissed and pointed at the statue, interrupting Terminus’ translation and Tarn’s train of thought. Vos transformed into a sniper rifle and allowed his teammates to look through his scope. Lockdown’s statue looked nothing like him, except for the eye markings.

    “Hold on,” said Tesarus, “I thought this was the bounty-hunter named Lockdown.”

    “It _is_ him,” replied Tarn. “Lockdown is obsessed with body modification. Lord Terminus just told us that Lockdown killed people for their body parts so he could modify himself.” He turned to Censere. “Are you the one designing these statues?”

    Censere nodded and said to Tarn, “I want anyone who sees these mechs to see them for what they truly are. In Lockdown’s case, no matter how much he alters his body, this is how he sees himself.”

    Reading Censere’s lips, as he did the entire time, Kaon asked the most important question of them all, “Where is my statue?”

    While Terminus was appalled by the question, Censere chuckled. Overhearing Censere’s answer, Tarn’s jaw dropped. Trying to remain calm, Tarn replied, “He says we share the same monument. In fact, every DJD member, including the previous Vos, is there.”

    “Where is it?!” asked Kaon. “I want to see it for myself.”

    Censere showed them on the map, it was quite far. A little too far to walk to, especially since it was getting late and the team didn’t want to admit that Necroworld was starting to creep them out.

    “I can’t wait to see it tomorrow,” said Tarn nervously, as Vos hissed in agreement.

    Sensing their strong desire to leave, Censere pulled out a small pouch from his subspace and handed it to Tesarus, who put it in his subspace without checking it. Using the map, the DJD hurried back to their ship, while Censere and Terminus watched them leave. After the DJD was very far away, Terminus fell to his knees and began to weep bitterly. Censere observed him.

    “These mechs are proud of their senseless murdering,” gasped Terminus.

    “They don’t think it’s senseless,” replied Censere. “Their Lord Megatron has tasked them with killing traitors, which is akin to pruning away the frostbitten parts of soft-stemmed plants so the rest of the plant won’t rot.”

    “My child is a monster,” said Terminus, offended by the comparison.

    “His sire was a demon and that’s where the monstrosity comes from,” replied Censere. “I don’t blame you for falling for him; I have seen that demon _and_ his thighs. But you did what you could for your son. Just remember that his sins aren’t yours, just like your sins aren't his. He has made his own conscious decisions for his path in life, there's  nothing you can do about it.”

    “Why are you always so cold?!” cried Terminus.

    “The warmth of life has long since left my body,” said Censere. “Although sometimes I wonder if I ever had any warmth to begin with. When I was young, my family tried burying me at least three times. They claimed I was pallid, cold to the touch and didn’t feel my pulse.” Censere handed Terminus a white handkerchief. “You've been with me for a long time, surely you'd be familiar with my quirks by now.”

    Terminus shook his head, trying not to think about them and how unnatural they were. Just about everything regarding Censere was unnatural even his birthplace – The High-Ceilinged Manifold. (Terminus had no idea where to find it on a map of Cybertron.) Just as Censere had told the DJD, he had the ability to see people for what they truly were. Censere saw that Terminus was distraught over meeting corrupted mechs who obsessed over his son’s violent political rhetoric. As the caretaker of every “living” thing on Necroworld, Censere stayed by Terminus’ side until he calmed down.

    Meanwhile, the DJD had returned to the Peaceful Tyranny. In an odd change of pace, Tarn decided to help Helex in the kitchen, while Tesarus went to the navigation room and locked all the windows shut. Curious, Vos approached Tesarus and said to him in Primal Vernacular, “What’s up?”

    “You know how you, Tarn, and Helex have nightmares about the zombies in the kitchen?” asked Tesarus. “From what I heard about Necroworld, these mechs bound to Mortilus start looking like zombies at night because they’re all alive for unnatural reasons.”

    “I’ve been trying to purposely ignore that possibility all evening,” replied Vos.

    Annoyed because Vos shouldn’t have even asked the question, Tesarus snapped at him, “Then go ignore it by making a science, in your lab, like you always do!”

    Nickel had followed Tarn to the kitchen and was shocked with what she saw. The kitchen was in a worse condition than her clinic at Prion. She didn’t think Tarn was a slob, but Tarn wasn’t a mind reader, and confessed the truth – that they had battled zombies in the kitchen. A few weeks ago, Tarn had brought in an Autobot necromancer on board his ship. Tarn was too embarrassed to admit he had a crush on the necromancer and told Nickel the same excuse he had told the others; that the necromancer was going to help them torture traitors. The torture sessions ended upon the traitors’ deaths but with the necromancer’s help, they’d end whenever Tesarus wasn’t bored anymore. Unfortunately, Tarn forgot to tell the others that the Autobot was a necromancer and Tesarus decided to tease him in the kitchen.

    “You fed me _people_ meat?!” cried Nickel.

    Tarn hadn’t even begun to describe the battle yet, when Nickel’s comment threw him off.

    With her little jet pack, Nickel flew up to Tarn’s face and slapped him. But her slap was too weak that he felt nothing while her hand went numb.

    “Shit!” she mumbled as she shook her hand, in an attempt to regain feeling in it.

    “How do you think we felt when Tarn didn’t explain his powers to us?” asked Helex.

    “Shut up!” snapped Nickel. She wanted to smack him too, but feared her hand would shatter.

    Meanwhile, Kaput was still trying to make sense of Necroworld. The last thing he remembered was being on board the Peaceful Tyranny and now he was in a strange building. The only familiar sight was Trepan, the second person he saw when he came back online. (The first, was the Necrobot, who had channeled Mortilus and resurrected him.) From what Kaput understood, the strange building was Censere’s base of operations on Necroworld, called “The Fortress”.

    “Give it a couple of lunar cycles, and you’ll get used to it,” said Trepan.

    “Oh…” replied Kaput. “I have a question.”

    “Yes?” said Trepan as he was typing in a password to enter a room.

    “Why are both your wrists branded?” asked Kaput.

    Trepan glanced at his right wrist, “That’s not a brand, that’s an engraved tattoo. I was very excited about mnemosurgery when I was younger. Back then, I had no idea that the mnemosurgeon’s motto is the same as Adaptus’ motto. The tattoo’s placement made it awkward when I converted to Mortilus Cultism because couldn’t get branded there like you.”

    “What made you convert, if you don’t mind me asking?” asked Kaput.

    “I was investigating the Tetrahex Ripper,” said Trepan. “A serial killer who claimed to kill his victims in the name of Mortilus. To figure out his motives, I studied his religion; a critical mistake because that serial killer pissed me off more. How could anyone misinterpret Mortilus Cultism like _that_? The whole point is to live every day like it’s your last – make peace with yourself and others, relax, don’t hoard a lot of material possessions, take care of the environment, especially the plants because they’re the ones who’ll use your rusted corpse for nutrients. Besides, you’re only supposed to make one kill during your lifetime and a lot of people took advantage of the Great War for that.”

    “Does Censere know about the Tetrahex Ripper?” asked Kaput.

    Trepan chuckled uncomfortably, as the door opened. “It upsets him, but then he’s a zealous cultist. Don’t piss him off, he’s actually terrifying.”

    Inside the room where the rest of the inhabitants from Prion. Though their bodies were still a deathly gray, they were now repaired. Upon, seeing them, Kaput was brought to tears. Trepan hugged him and said, “Let it all out…”

    “I’m never going to see my friends again…” gasped Kaput.

    “That’s right,” said Trepan. “You belong to Mortilus now and the Wi-Fi here is horrendous. I mean, Necroworld isn’t some heavenly place. We can’t expect it to be perfect.”

    Kaput frowned. This wasn’t what he wanted to hear.


	7. A Dam's Wish

    Early the next morning, DJD had decided to pilot their ship and land near their statue. Their statue was impressive and they took several photos of it, along with posing next to it. Tarn couldn’t help notice that his statue was of his tiny-ass economy car form but he was proudly wearing his Decepticon mask. Kaon’s statue had eyes but he had them closed. Vos saw himself as gracefully stealthy, while Helex noticed his statue made him look ravenous and ferocious. Finally, Tesarus saw himself, not as a warrior but a determined farmer smugly overlooking at the vast fields of blue.

    Satisfied, they all went back inside and had breakfast. As they ate, Tarn said to them, “Okay, we don’t know how long we have to wait until this surprise attack, but we might as well spend this time efficiently. I propose we continue with remodeling the kitchen. I would hate for the Necrobot to come to our ship and see that we haven’t done anything about it.”

    “Why do you care about his opinion about the kitchen?” asked Nickel as she spread some marmalade on her toast.

    “This mech told me he’d be willing to fight alongside us and the Decepticons,” said Tarn. “Look at him, he is clearly a refined mech with exquisite tastes. If he thinks we’re slobs, then he’d regret this and withdraw his offer. We can’t have that happen.” Tarn turned to Tesarus, “You’re the only one here who has practiced Mortilus Cultism, what would impress this mech?”

    “Horticulture,” replied Tesarus. “Maybe if you show him those plants you got from Messantine, he’d be impressed.”

    Tarn gasped, he had forgotten about the marijuana plants that he forced Pharma to raise at Delphi, and then brought them on board his ship. (Tarn’s plan was to take Pharma and make Pharma care for them, because Tarn doesn’t know anything about plants.)

    “I’ve been watering them and recently gave them fertilizer,” said Tesarus. “I’ve also been moving them around to where there’s more light. They need sunlamps, since they look a bit wilted. I wonder if we could get sunlamps here.”

    Vos narrowed his eyes, he suspected that something _was_ different with Tesarus. He didn’t seem as listless these past couple of weeks. Since these changes were positive, Vos didn't bother to investigate it further. He reached over and served himself more orange juice. They enjoyed their meal, before going back to work.

    They were interrupted when their communicube went off. It was Censere. Tarn was confused as to how Censere got their number but at this point, he was too afraid to ask. Censere sent a subtitled message informing them that Terminus was going to show them Megatron’s statue. Excited the DJD stopped what they were doing and exited the ship, with their own hovercyles. Terminus was waiting for them on a red hover scooter. Terminus sighed and pressed a button that turned his scooter into a hovercycle too.

    He said to them, “My foreman informed me that I should take you to see my son’s statue. I understand that you’re all busy with your personal projects.”

    “Those can wait,” said Tarn, as he made sure Nickel was comfortable in his side-car. “It’s a once-in-a-lifetime experience to see the vast fields of those Lord Megatron has slain.”

    Unimpressed, Terminus replied, “All of the spark-flowers in front of my son’s statue are of loyal Decepticons who died for his cause and wish to be with him until they fade away.”

    “Oh no, that’s worse!” cried Kaon.

    Terminus sighed in agreement. After the brief awkward pause, they followed Terminus to Megatron’s statue. As they drove, Terminus wondered why Censere ordered him to personally show them his son’s statue.

    Terminus was still upset about meeting the DJD but his feelings changed from anger towards them to strong feelings of guilt. After all, Terminus had enabled Megatron’s political rhetoric by encouraging his son to write poetry and helping him smuggle out propaganda from the mines. Had Terminus been a good parent to Megatron, he should’ve ridiculed Megatron’s poetry to discourage him and told him to focus on mining instead. Yet, Terminus felt he was incapable of doing that because all he wanted was a better life for his son and for Megatron to succeed. Discouraging his son’s interests, which are always innately tied to a sparkling’s true calling, would’ve doomed Megatron to a life of failure and misery. Terminus didn’t want that either.

    They arrived at the statue within a few minutes. Since the spark-flowers were of loyal Decepticons, the DJD carefully tried to step around them, yet the spark-slowers moved out of their way on their own. They had done so before, at the DJD statue, but the DJD hadn’t noticed until now. Megatron’s statue was of him sitting atop a Tarnian version of Iacon’s Iron Throne, except instead of being forged by a bunch of guns melted together it was made out of bones of those who had stood in Megatron’s way.

    Terminus shook his head, “I tried to educate my son to be a proper gentlemech and he sits slouched like this with his legs wide open.”

    “He wanna be comfortable,” shrugged Vos.

    Terminus shook his head, as Kaon set up the camera on a tripod. Kaon interrupted, “Lord Terminus, we must take a photo with you. That way we can show your son, Lord Megatron, that you are alright. I know I get worried about my carrier when I haven’t heard from him in a while.”

    Terminus and Tarn smiled nervously. Tarn saw Terminus as a floating legless mech, which was how Terminus looked like before he met his end. He also knew that his teammates were unable to see Terminus as legless and worried that Terminus would show up like that on film. Unsure of Megatron’s feelings towards his carrier and sole parent, Tarn couldn’t risk upsetting him.

    They all posed for a group photo, but Tarn made sure to have Kaon, Vos, Nickel and The Pet in front of Terminus to block his legs. They proceeded to take various photos. As they did, Censere emerged from underneath the flowers because he wanted to know how things were going. Kaon spotted him and made him take a photo with the team and Terminus too.

    After several photos, Censere pulled out 3 picnic baskets from out of his cape and handed them to Terminus. Apparently, Terminus had left in such a hurry he forgot to grab lunch. Before they all knew it, Censere sunk back into the flowers and disappeared.

    As they ate lunch, Tesarus asked, “Lord Terminus, if it’s not too personal,  are you – undead?”

    Helex dropped his butter knife upon hearing that and the rest of the team, except Tarn became deathly silent.

    Terminus shrugged and said, “Yup. Shortly before that, I was in an accident in Messantine. Part of the mine collapsed and I was pinned under the rubble. It was quicker to cut off my legs than to try to move the rocks. My guts tell me it wasn’t an accident because a couple of months before _that,_ some mine administrators and other fine gentlemech had a talk with me. Telling me that it was for me and Megatron’s own good, for him to put an immediate halt on his political poetry.” Terminus scoffed. “We may’ve been poor miners, but we are proud Tarnians regardless. I told Megatron about what those mechs told me and told him not to allow anyone to silence him. Part of me is proud that he took my words to heart.”

    He continued, saying that a week or so after this “talk” there was another explosion and this time there was also a chemical leak. The mine administrators ordered everyone out of the mines as fast as possible. Megatron was away at work, while Terminus was back at the barracks. The DJD remembered this bit from the first edition of Megatron’s “Towards Peace”. Megatron took a deep breath and tried to run back into the mines, towards the barracks because his guts told him his carrier was still inside.

    While this happened, Terminus was busy branding the sacrificial sigil onto his right wrist with a screwdriver. Terminus had debated whether or not he should do it, because of his reverence towards Mortilus and felt he himself was an unworthy sacrifice. Terminus wasn’t stupid either, as a drill operative, his nose was especially sensitive to flammable fumes and he didn’t smell any. What he did smell was the scent of strange mechs running about the mines. Terminus realized that the mine administrators must’ve faked an emergency to “discreetly” eliminate him with the help of outside forces, who had come to murder him and then set fire to the barracks.

    Knowing that his end was inevitable, Terminus chanted the offering prayer silently, as he moved his left arm behind his back, between his plating. He requested Mortilus to bless Megatron, so he could succeed in his revolution and for Cybertron to become a better place. After finishing his prayer, Terminus extended his harpoon and stabbed himself in the back, piercing his spark chamber, which let his spark loose.

    The labyrinthian mine tunnels made it difficult for both Megatron and the would-be assailants to reach Terminus quickly. However, as Mortilus’ reincarnation, the Necrobot was the first to arrive and he took Terminus with him. Megatron arrived second, but Terminus had already vanished. The assailants saw Megatron there, but no sign of Terminus. They quickly retreated and did nothing because they were paid beforehand.

    Oddly, the anecdote put the DJD at peace. If the Necrobot was going to help them destroy the organics, to fulfill Kaput’s prayer, he was surely going to help the Decepticons win the war because Terminus had requested it. Though they still didn’t believe in divinity, they believed in what they saw and the Necrobot appeared to be a mech of his word.


	8. Juice Ex Machina

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It would've been foolish of me to not use this pun as the chapter title.

    Later that evening, Tarn was walking with Nickel along a nearby wooded path, when they overheard someone yelling at them. Tarn turned to the source of the voice and saw a large truckformer who was roughly Tarn’s own size. Although he looked familiar, Tarn didn’t recognize him. Perhaps it was due to the large burn scar the mech had on the left side of his face. The mech did seem excited to meet Tarn.

    Frowning behind his mask, Tarn asked, “Yes?”

    “Is your name Damus of Tarn?” asked the mech.

    Nickel’s eyes widened when the mech had immediately recognized Tarn. It took a second for Tarn to register what was said to him, when he replied, “Of course. Who are you? And how did you recognize me with this mask on?”

    The mech was hurt by Tarn’s reply and transformed into a large armored car before speeding away. Assuming the mech was one of the undead on Necroworld, Tarn said nothing because his ability seemed to only affect the living.

    Nickel flew out of Tarn’s arms with her jetpack and got in his face, “What the hell was _that_? You just let that hot mech get away?”

    “I don’t even know who that is, so his distress doesn’t concern me,” replied Tarn coldly.

    Nickel’s gauge shook but relaxed after remembering that Tarn mentioned he was an empurata victim. An unfortunate side-effect for these victims was akin to an emotional castration; not quite shadowplay since they could still feel some strong emotion. (Whereas shadowplay erases all strong emotion.)

    Seeing that she was over her shock, Tarn added, “I thought it was impolite to pretend I remembered him. Imagine if he realized I was lying to him; he’d be more hurt than he is now.”

    “True,” said Nickel as she descended back into Tarn’s arms, to resume being held.

    Meanwhile, the mech had run across the endless pathways until he slowed down to a stop. He transformed and threw himself on the ground, loudly sobbing. Nearby, Terminus emerged from the ground with his trill tank mode and drove up to him.

    Concerned, Terminus asked, “What's wrong, son?”

    “One of those scary mechs was an old friend of mine,” replied the mech. “He has gotten his frame upgraded, but he didn't remember me. It's that same type of confused but empty gaze Senator Shockwave gave us when he asked him if he felt okay after his shadowplay.”

    Terminus knew the mech was trying to describe one of the DJD members. But none of them appeared to be empurata victims. However, all of them were zealous Decepticons and _that_ did little to narrow down the possibility. The one Terminus was sure wasn't it was Kaon because he looked too young, as if he was born _during_ the Great War. He transformed and sat next to the mech.

    “Rather than jump to conclusions, let's visit the Reflection Pool,” said Terminus, as he held out his hand. “Come, Roller.”

    With his other hand, Terminus pulled out a hand-held transporter from his subspace and opened a ground-bridge for both himself and Roller. Being a miner and having no time to wait for Roller, he carried him, and they went through the ground-bridge together. They arrived at the shrine, located in the Fortress.

    “Are you a point one percenter, by any chance?” asked Terminus as he placed Roller back on the ground.

    “Yes sir,” replied Roller who was shaken more by the fact that he was carried. Mechs his size were never or rarely carried by another, and being held in such a way disoriented them.

    “It explains why you can still feel strong emotions; your spark is too strong that it retains the passion of life,” replied Terminus. “Not sure if you should be thankful for that. Those who have succumbed to the calmness of Necroworld are usually the first to fade away and become one with the Allspark.”

    “You’re emotional too, you cry every time you see Censere planting new spark-flowers,” replied Roller.

    “If your only son, whom you had put all your faith in because he was determined to make the world a better place, devolved into a genocidal despot, your tears would never dry,” scoffed Terminus. “I’m sure this pain mutated my spark because it wasn’t always cyan…”

    The pair walked together until they arrived at the Reflection Pool. Terminus stepped aside and went to a nearby sink and washed his hands. Roller copied him, because he had never been to the Reflection Pool before and thought it was proper etiquette. Terminus knelt near the pool and stuck his hand inside it. The pool began to glow, like a large liquid television. It showed footage of Terminus cuddling with two sparklings, the younger one looked like Terminus but with red eyes, and the other was yellow and purple. Unable to handle the vision, Terminus withdrew his hand.

    “Stick your hand in,” said Terminus. “It will show you what you what your spark wants to see the most.”

    Roller stuck his hand inside. The vision appeared of Tarn, but as he once was – a ruddy, tiny-ass economy car minibot who was an empurata victim named Damus. Damus was walking down a dark corridor accompanied by two tall long-necked mechs, one was purple and the other orange. Damus looked through his subspace and pulled out a drawing. It was of how “Tarn” looked today, except without the mask and in the same ruddy colors Damus had.

    Pointing at the drawing, Damus said to the mechs, “Make me the biggest, thickest, sexiest bastard imaginable. I want my enemies to look at me in battle and think of me as ‘That Thicc Glitch’, to weaponize the nickname they used to insult me.”

    The purple mech narrowed his optic and adjusted his monocle, “These drawing skills are amazing, considering the current state of your hands. But then, that’s just a testament to your powers.”

    The orange mech politely took the drawing from Damus and handed it to the purple mech, “Fetch the supplies, I still need to do some presurgical counseling with Damus. Some small mechs don’t adjust well to such a drastic change in size-class. It's pretty common from what I've seen back at the relinquishment clinic, we worked in.”

    “I don’t need counseling, I’m powerful, remember?” replied Damus as the purple mech left the room. “I need a large-enough body to better control my powers.”

    As soon as the purple mech left, the orange mech said, “My assistant and I worked as mnemosurgeons before the war. We know a liar when we hear the first thing that comes out of his mouth. You have lied to us about your intentions for this upgrade. Rest assured, there’s no need to feel embarrassment. All reasons for an upgrade are equally valid.” The orange mech extended his needles.

    Intimidated by the mnemosurgeon, Damus sighed. “Fine, it’s that I miss my friend Roller. He was the only one who didn’t make fun of me or made me feel like I was a mistake. I don’t know what happened to him, after losing that battle against Sentinel’s Elite Guards. We all retreated and I – I was too scared to go back for him, even though I wanted to. But also, because I’m so small and weak and I’d fuck everything up, there was nothing I could do, even if I _could_ go back. I failed my last remaining friend and I certainly don’t want to fail Lord Megatron in the same way.”

    The mnemosurgeon nodded, but Damus continued, “I _loved him_ ! I miss him so much and hate myself for not doing anything for him, when he did _everything_ for me! These feelings are hopeless because I know that deep in my spark, he is dead. And thinking about it, I don’t know if becoming as big and powerful as he was will help me in serving Lord Megatron.”

    “I assure you, the size _will_ help,” said the mnemosurgeon, “What won’t help is your heartbreak, because your spark is torn between wanting to serve Megatron and pining over your lost love. But I’m here to help with the latter, if you’d like. That way, you can focus on the present and future without dwelling about the past which cannot be redone.”

    At that Roller withdrew his hand from the Reflection Pool. He wasn’t sure if he should put it back and look some more because he already knew the event’s outcome – Damus chose to serve Megatron without distractions and had his memories of Roller erased from his mind. Besides, Damus was right; Roller had died and Damus needed to move on, even though the method he chose to do so wasn’t the healthiest option.

* * *

    After the attack from Sentinel Prime’s forces, specifically the Elite Guard who had overpowered the rebels, Roller was paralyzed from the waist down. His t-cog was bent from the impact that he was unable to transform and drive away. Sensing the enemies approaching, Roller felt the only reasonable thing to do is give himself up to Mortilus than to be captured alive and endanger his friends. He pulled out an emergency juice box from his subspace and put the straw in it. Once that was ready, he pulled out five fast-acting poison pills and swallowed them at once, before washing them down with his juice. The last things Roller remembered was feeling nauseous with severe abdominal cramping, and a sudden intense headache that made everything go dark, but it lasted for a few seconds because it was all numb afterwards.

    When the Elite Guard found Roller, he was already dead. One of them, a mnemosurgeon, removed the panels on the back of Roller’s head to search his memories, but discovered that multiple large crystals had formed inside Roller’s cranium. These crystals punctured the Roller’s brain-module, killing him instantly. Since the poison still soaked the brain-module and surrounding fluids, it would’ve been suicidal for the mnemosurgeon to inject. He and the rest of the Elite Guard had no choice but to leave Roller’s corpse to rust.

    The Necrobot appeared a day or so later. As ordered by Mortilus, the Necrobot had to stop whatever he was doing and collect the corpse of the sacrificial victim to take back to Necroworld. He had done this with Terminus, Trepan, and recently with Kaput, among others, too. After thoroughly cleaning out his poisoned corpse, the Necrobot rebuilt and revived Roller.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Here is a better re-telling of Damus’ origin story by Tumblr artist, Shokveyv.](https://shokveyv.tumblr.com/post/155538710968/it-bothered-me-in-tarns-memories-of-being-rebuilt)


	9. The Pregame Show

    They say that one day for an immortal, is like a thousand years for a mortal. Whether or not is was true is irrelevant; because of Necroworld’s timeless nature, enough time had passed that the Black Block Consortia had declared the planet safe and had established a colony atop Prion’s ruins. It was then, that Mortilus spoke to Censere, while he was transplanting peppers into a new planter. The day of reckoning had arrived.

    Since teleportation drained him, Censere jumped on his trusty hover scooter and drove towards the Peaceful Tyranny. Halfway there, he noticed a small patch of spark-flowers growing too close to the riverbed. The monsoon season was coming, and the defenseless flowers would get washed away and drown. Censere took a detour and rushed over to the spark-flowers, to dig them out and transplant them somewhere safe, as he scolded them for being idiots.

    Censere placed the spark-flowers on the basket in the back of his hover scooter. After making sure they were securely fastened, he returned to the Fortress to inspect them. They were nineteen spark-flowers and fortunately, they were all in good condition. Censere placed them on the examination table and stood over them, allowing his shadow to fall on them. The circuitry pattern on their petals began to glow, and it was then that Censere identified them. They were the same group of neutrals who kept transplanting themselves in inhospitable locations.

    “Tell me, what is it about the fertile fields that you hate?” asked Censere.

    The spark-flowers began to glow and wiggled as Censere observed them. Just like in life, they were tired of Autobots’ and Decepticons’ endless war. Many of the other spark-flowers were harvested from fallen soldiers of either faction. Despite it all, these spark-flowers were still loyal to their cause. It was then that Censere decided to plant the spark-flowers near the Fortress. It was a wholly neutral zone as it had been for billions of years. Here, the spark-flowers were safe and away from talk about the Great War. Censere went outside and planted them.

    Back on the Peaceful Tyranny, the DJD had finished remodeling the kitchen, in peace. To celebrate, Tarn went to his office (nicknamed “Studio 5”), to remix a song to commemorate the occasion. He had also planned to make another remix after avenging Prion. The DJD went about their day as usual.

    Misunderstanding Tarn’s commands because he was bored and distracted, Tesarus went to the kitchen, the next day, and took out the incense balls that The Necrobot had given him. After putting them back in the pouch, Tesarus got an old bowl that The Pet didn’t want to eat off and then reached into his hollowed abdomen with his right smaller hand, cutting himself. He moved quickly, so his blood would fill up the bowl, before cauterizing his injury. Tesarus pulled out a small prayer card he had and chanted the ominous prayer, as he dropped a single incense ball into the blood offering. The blood changed from pink to black and released a strong but inoffensive fragrance, that caught the attention of The Pet and Kaon.

    Kaon gasped, “What the hell are you doing?”

    “Huh?” asked Tesarus as he turned around, oblivious to the fact that the black blood in the bowl was bubbling and oozing out, spilling onto the brand-new counter and falling on the floor. When he finally noticed, Tesarus said, “Oh shit!”

    The goo was expanding so The Pet ran behind Kaon and whimpered. When was about the size of a mech, a red arm emerged from it and pulled it off his body as if it were a cape. Seeing Censere right before him, Tesarus couldn’t help but feel disappointed with himself for not expecting such a bold entrance. But he was relieved that there wasn’t a mess or a stain to clean up afterwards.

    Censere reached into his cape and pulled out Kaput.

    Within moments, Tarn had arrived at the kitchen, since his silent alarm informed him of “paranormal activities” in the kitchen. He stopped in his tracks when he saw Censere and Kaput.

    “Sir, is it time to attack already?” asked Tarn.

    Censere looked at his pocket watch, they should’ve attacked yesterday when Mortilus spoke to him but he forgot because he got distracted. “Of course. I would like to meet with the rest of your teammates, so we could all plan the attack. I brought Kaput with me to keep Nickel company during this slaughter. I’m sure they need more time to see with each other.”

    Tarn pulled out his com-link and spoke in Primal Vernacular before repeating himself in Neocybex, “We must meet in the den to discuss our upcoming vengeful attack, immediately.” He left with Tesarus, Kaon, and the Pet.

    Censere got Kaput and teleported with him to the medibay where Nickel was familiarizing herself with its layout. Nickel sensed Kaput but wasn’t sure if she should turn around. Although witnessing his death was horrific, it wasn’t as bad as knowing that she’d likely never see him again. She quickly turned around to face them, but Censere was already gone and only Kaput remained.

    “Today is the day,” said Kaput. “They’ll pay blood for blood and after the deed is done, Censere will resurrect everyone. Afterwards, he'll contact his associate to relocate Prion somewhere safe.”

    “That sounds great…” said Nickel. “I wish everyone the best.”

    “So you’re leaving Prion to be with your friend?” asked Kaput.

    “I feel I have to,” said Nickel. “Not for his sake but for my own. In an instant, my whole life was flipped upside-down. I realized I can’t hold onto anyone or anything forever, even if our whole race is considered immortal and I’m clearly no different than anyone else.”

    “You shouldn’t run away from your problems,” replied Kaput.

    “I’m not a fucking coward!” cried Nickel.

    “I know,” replied Kaput. “I was only trying to word it more tastefully rather than outright mention your macrophilia.”

    Nickel’s eyes widened and her gauge went to red. She wasn’t sure if Kaput had developed psychic powers, but fortunately for her, he did not. He just stuck his hand in the Reflection Pool because his conscience wasn’t sure about Nickel’s fate. Unlike the other colonists, she had lived and wouldn’t feel comfortable being the only living member of a colony were everyone else is undead. Although, he assumed she would go with the DJD because Tarn was her friend, not because she was instantly attracted to all of them – though she was iffy about Kaon, since he was young-enough to be her son.

    Meanwhile, Censere was the first to arrive at the den, the first thing he noticed were the potted marijuana plants. He could already tell that this was an attempt to impress him, but Censere couldn’t help but be disappointed. Vegetables, like tomatoes, were more tasteful to grow. He also heard soft music, although he found it nice, it wasn’t the type of music he’d listen to if given the choice.

    The DJD arrived together, they already suspected that Censere was going to be waiting for him. After they all took a seat, Censere’s eyes began to glow so vividly that they went from blue to yellow. His red plating turned a pale lilac, and his crest stood up like a mohawk. His power levels changed, and he was immediately the strongest mech in the room. It was then that Vos finally understood why Tarn was trying his best to impress Censere.

    “It’s nice to see you all again,” said Censere out loud. His voice instilled terror deep into their spark, which murdered his greeting’s friendliness. “Time holds no power here on Necroworld. The only thing that changes here is the seasons but they’re the same as the previous cycle. As far as the organics are concerned, they destroyed Prion some 23 years ago. During this time, they founded a modest colony that has similar functions to what Prion had for Cybertron – they exist as a refueling colony. For them, a long time has passed and seeing that Cybertronians have not retaliated against them, they’ve finally let down their guard. We will attack before dawn.”

    Censere pulled out a map of the organics’ colony. He discussed his plan and was open to hearing suggestions from the DJD, which they gladly provided.

    When they seemed to be coming to an agreement, Censere said, “We also can’t have you all showing your face. This attack cannot be traced back to the Decepticons or else it causes a nasty legal mess for your faction. Instead, we’ll attack as Gigadeath, Mortilus’ legendary gestalt harbinger of death. Gigadeath is quite easy to summon; all he is me, combining with an existing team. I hope you don’t mind, because I can’t think of any other way this would work out as catastrophically awful, as it deserves to be.”

    “Wait, so you’re saying that if we combine with you, we’d be even more powerful?” said Helex.

    “Yes but also, you’re going to lose your iconic Decepticon look,” said Censere. “And be temporarily repainted with the same uniform color, that you’d all be difficult to identify and tell apart.”

    Tarn was disappointed that they had to hide their Decepticon-ness but understood it needed to be done or else Lord Megatron would be blamed for it. Censere extended his cape and covered up the team, until they appeared outside the Peaceful Tyranny. Giving them a few seconds to orient themselves, Censere told Tarn it was time to combine.

    Raising his hands, Tarn shouted, “Stop and face the music!”

    Tarn’s words activated their combiner joints, and the DJD began to combine along with Censere. Their transformation took a few seconds longer, since it had to accommodate Censere and the immense power he brought with him because as The Necrobot, he could channel Mortilus.

    At this point, Nickel and Kaput were in the captain’s seat and had a nice view of the team’s transformation. Gigadeath was a large and terrible creature, truly the harbinger of death and destruction. In the distance, Roller, Terminus, and Trepan looked on. Seeing that the younger mechs were scared, Terminus wrapped his arms protectively over both of them. The terror was brief because Gigadeath teleported out of Necroworld.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Gigadeath" is a TF OC. This is not the name I've given the DJD combiner, whose inspiration comes from [Iron Factory's Spirits of the D.E.C.](https://news.tfw2005.com/2018/12/11/colored-images-of-iron-factorys-spirits-of-the-d-e-c-combined-mode-378719) combiner set. Gigadeath is just the name of the add-on. Gigadeath can be formed with other teams, like Bruticus, Devastator, Superior, Menasor, Defensor, Victorion, Megaempress, etc.


	10. Rock N Roll (Out)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **EDIT: 17th of June, 2019** Gigadeath and Necroworld have time-traveled 23 years into the future. I don't think I clarified that. The point is that they didn't just sit and chill for 23 years before attacking. XS

    Much like 23 years ago, the day had been a regular day for a mercantile community. Everything was at its least busy because it was around 2:45 am. Gigadeath appeared next to the power plant. Due to Tarn’s and Censere’s undead state, Gigadeath was invisible to security despite appearing on security footage as a giant rusted out corpse.

    Vos looked at the colony, sneering, “Disgusting.”

    Helex’s finials wiggled because he wasn’t used to understanding Vos without an interpreter. He had only heard him the few times they had combined.

    “Let’s give them all a wakeup call,” chuckled Censere, as he nodded to Tarn.

    Gigadeath retracted his speakers. Tarn had to think for a second, as much as he wanted to play his signature Empyrean Suite Remix, that would out them as the DJD. Instead, he played a remix of an old original song he wrote as a sparkling.

    The sound Gigadeath emitted was so loud that it obliterated the power plant and all surrounding buildings within an 8 km radius. These organics were instantly killed since the vibrations of the sound tore them to pieces and pulverized them as well. Others outside the zone were badly injured and dying as they were closer to the attack’s epicenter. The music continued to play, inflicting additional damage, and causing interference with emergency communication devices.

    It was so loud, that it was audible from space. A satellite managed to finally catch a glimpse of Gigadeath, his disfigured decayed appearance hardly seemed Cybertronian. But this sighting was brief since Gigadeath turned to an ominous fog as the music gradually faded away. At this moment, the authorities made attempts to contact the Black Block Consortia. But their attempts were too slow.

    Gigadeath had arrived at the airport and played another deadly song – it was the Empyrean Suite but played backwards and in another key. Censere crossed his arms and shook his head, while the rest of the DJD danced to the music.

    The airport collapsed and ships that were heading towards the colony, lost contact with mission control. Some pilots were quick to turn around, because the ominous music heard from space was bone-chilling and unnatural. Others attempted to land, only for their navigation gear to stop functioning. And at this point, it was too late since once they got too close to the sound, the windows shattered, and destroyed the ships in mid-flight by literally blasting them apart. The passengers and pilots were already dead before the ships hurled towards the ground.

    As soon as the Black Block Consortia got word that the colony was being attacked, they used their spacebridges to arrive on the planet. But they were too late. Gigadeath had completely leveled the colony and there were no survivors. A lieutenant, who had been an active participant in slaughtering the minibots from Prion as a private, turned pale. He knew this was the work of vengeful Cybertronians. However, the destruction was unusual. Cybertronians usually leveled cities when they fought against each other but there was no sign of a battle or radiation from their laser-particle weaponry. The lieutenant ordered his squadron to split up to recover evidence from the catastrophe.

    The lieutenant and his subordinates were unaware that Gigadeath was standing next to their ship. His ghost-like demeanor made him completely invisible. Although a couple of hours had passed, he was adjusting to his increased power.

    Censere turned to Tesarus and said to him, “While we wait, and make the organics more anxious in the process, there’s something I’ve been wanting to ask you. But I also think that your teammates should hear it too.”

    The DJD was surprised since combiner teams tend to share the same thoughts at once, yet Censere was able to keep a secret. And that was alarming. Nervous, Tesarus asked, “What is it?”

    “Do you remember why you chose to fight for Lord Megatron and the Decepticons?” asked Censere.

    He didn't need to say anything, everyone knew the right answer; for the sake of his family back in the city-state of Tesarus. But Tesarus replied anyway, “I wanted us to go back to the countryside where we belonged.”

    “Us?” Asked Censere, “Does that include you as well, Scissorsaw?”

    “…”

    “Leave him alone!” cried Tarn.

    “Not while we’re Gigadeath,” replied Censere. “I just want him to get his thoughts together for a moment. I’ve come to understand that you all value family; whether it’s from kinship or friendship. It’s valued so much that you ignore part of your pledge when you all decided to be part of the DJD, to leave your past lives behind. Amp visits his carrier frequently. Forestock regularly sneaks in to visit his family and brings back plenty of wine, since they run a vineyard. Crucible and you, occasionally travel to your perspective city-states, though most of what you need is in your ship. And Nickel, someone you love deeply, has come into the picture. What about Tesarus, is there a reason you don’t want to go there?”

    “If I go there, I don’t think I’ll ever come back,” said Tesarus.

    “Your family has prayed to Mortilus for your safe return and has offered sacrifices every year,” replied Censere. “But the sacrifices are fewer each year. Certain members have even reconsidered their allegiance to the Decepticon Cause because the Decepticons have stolen their loyal, faithful, hardworking miller son.”

    Tesarus gasped, he didn’t know what hurt him more, the guilt of separation or the possibility of them defecting.

    “Regular travel there will decrease the chances of abandoning your team,” said Censere, “because you’ll be sure that you’d always return home. This ceasefire slows things down for the time being. I strongly recommended that you reconsider going back. It might make things less boring.”

    The lieutenant was analyzing the evidence his troops reported. The victims had been ripped apart and crushed. The video evidence they found on the satellite feed suggested that everything began to vibrate before experiencing a disconnection. Suddenly, something caught his attention from the left side. It was then, that he finally noticed Gigadeath and made eye-contact with him. The lieutenant remembered that he forgot to call his wife.

    Gigadeath spoke, however his voice was gentle and lulling, “Unfortunately, you will never live to see why they call me Gigadeath. But you can always experience it firsthand.”

    The crew tried to blast Gigadeath, but his electric force-field protected him. Gigadeath grabbed the ship and let his contagious rhythm pulsate through the ship. It was enough for the ship’s central computer to send out a contaminated distress signal before short-circuiting. The rhythm got stronger that everyone onboard felt as if they were being crushed. Gigadeath amplified the vibration until the ship crumbled into pieces along with everyone else inside.

    The ship’s distress signal made it into orbit and was picked up by a nearby Black Block Consortia vessel. However, the distress signal played a loud and disorienting noise which scrambled the ship’s systems and forced it to start shutting down with emergency generators malfunctioning. A crewmember tried to call for help, but it was a fatal mistake. Like a virus with its aggressive domino-effect, all ships which heard the distress signal succumbed to similar fates; everyone on board either suffocated or the ships exploded. Several ships were affected, including large civilian ones that numbered in the thousands. Of course, this “bug” was blamed on the Black Block Consortia, but they insisted it was a Cybertronian named Gigadeath who was responsible. Gigadeath was considered to be a mythical being among Cybertronians, many of whom doubted his existence, making the accusations against him absolutely ludicrous.


	11. A Dream Come True

    Back on the Peaceful Tyranny, Kaput and The Pet happily watched the destruction from the safety of Kaput’s tablet. The Pet wondered how the destruction was recorded but was too afraid to ask. Nickel, on the other hand, looked away and tried to distract herself with some of Tarn’s remixes. She was impressed with what she heard and recalled that Damus once told her he wanted to make digital music but couldn’t, because he accidentally kept damaging the equipment.

    Out of the corner of her eye, Nickel saw a ray of light in the distance. Concerned, she asked, “Kaput, what is that?”

    Kaput looked outside and gasped, “That’s coming from the Fortress! That could only mean one thing…the deed is done. Explains why I feel relief all of a sudden.”

    At the Fortress, Trepan and several other mechs bound to serve Mortilus, were busy trying to get the Prion minibots and minicons, settled. The last thing the minis remembered was the destruction and were confused as to why they were on the floor in a giant auditorium. Trepan got his microphone and said, “Welcome back, everyone. I know you all have plenty of questions about your arrival and where you are. During the attack, one of you brave sparks, prayed to Mortilus to come to your aid. Mortilus has listened and here you are on Necroworld, while we try to figure out where to relocate you all.”

    The minis muttered amongst themselves. They were trying to figure out who the Mortilus Cultist was. Other minis were busy asking Mortilus’ servants to confirm Trepan’s announcement. One of the minibots asked Trepan, “If this is Necroworld, where is the Necrobot?”

    “He’s out there fighting the organics that attacked your colony, but he has teamed up with Decepticons in order to do so,” replied Trepan.

    The minis once again continued to mutter amongst themselves. Without missing a beat, Terminus turned on his microphone and began talking about the Decepticon Cause. Trepan let out an exasperated gasp, which wasn’t heard by many because he had turned off his microphone.

    Trepan remembered his last few years when he was alive and being held captive by the wannabe genocidal despot, Overlord. Overlord had kidnapped Trepan from The New Institute, while he was on a mission to rescue the Decepticons’ chief communications officer, Soundwave who was about to be brainwashed. Overlord wanted to learn mnemosurgery, so he could defeat Megatron. Although Overlord had ordered Trepan to teach him mnemosurgery, Trepan felt it was a futile effort. Overlord never asked him questions about the lessons, instead he constantly talked about Megatron, to the point that Trepan had no idea if Overlord hated Megatron or was fanatically obsessed with him. When Trepan had reached his tipping point, he engraved the sacrificial sigil onto his left wrist because he felt any day would be his last and he’d finally be free of hearing about Megatron. Little did he know, he would end up on Necroworld where there was someone who liked to talk about Megatron. Fortunately, the way Terminus spoke about Megatron was completely inoffensive because he always spoke fondly of his son, like any proud parent would. (Although Terminus wasn’t entirely pleased with how he’s heard the Great War play out.)

    Moments later, Gigadeath teleported back into Necroworld, before promptly de-combining. Censere and the the DJD, all passed out amongst the flowers. Fortunately, they landed next to the Peaceful Tyranny, where Nickel, Kaput, and the Pet spotted them. Nickel hurried to the medibay and grabbed emergency provisions. Nickel outpaced Kaput when she ran outside, that she didn’t hear him begging for her to stop. As soon as she arrived towards the weary mechs, Nickel screamed as she dropped the provisions. On the field, laid what appeared to be the dismembered remains of the DJD and Censere. Helex, Tesarus, and Vos were each covered in a strange black substance with reddish metallic shimmer, reminiscent of “antimatter”. Kaon was burnt completely as if he was electrocuted. Censere, had been torn to pieces and was bloodied all over. Finally Tarn, had his mask askew and a dark, foul liquid was oozing out of his mouth.  

    Kaput ran to Nickel’s side and tried to comfort her, as the Pet looked on disturbed but numb since he was used to seeing traitors meet their bloody end like this. He felt terrible for not explaining to Nickel what had occurred; that the energy used up as the gestalt drained the team and made them look like they got murdered but they were alive. Kaput picked up one of the provisions and handed it to the Pet. Taking a guess, the Pet walked over to Kaon and dropped the cube into his mouth. The provision re-energized him that his burns immediately started clearing up. The Pet continued to feed Kaon, until Kaon was re-energized and seemingly unharmed.

    Kaput rolled over to Kaon and placed Nickel in his arms, while he and the pet split up to revive the others. Kaput fed Censere, while the pet fed Tesarus. Kaon decided to help and placed three cubes on Helex’s tongue and rolled it back into his mouth. Nickel walked over to Tarn and tried to feed him. The Pet placed cubes in Vos’ mask but lacked the opposable thumbs to pick up the mask and shove it in Vos’ face like a whipped cream pie. Censere and Kaon rushed over to help the Pet, and after slurping up the provisions, Vos recovered.

    As the DJD slowly re-energized, Censere pulled out a small syringe and injected himself with some diluted synth-en. Coming back to his full-senses, he said to Tarn, “You have a surprise waiting for you at The Fortress.”

    Excited, Tarn helped the rest of teammates back on the ship and headed to The Fortress, along with Censere and Kaput. Censere explained that when he received the boost from the synth-en, he overheard the spark-flowers say that the minis from Prion all wanted to become Decepticon. But Tarn and the DJD misunderstood Censere’s message and thought that the minis wanted to be Decepticons because the DJD had helped avenge them. (Actually, Terminus had unintentionally told them Decepticon propaganda, but knowing the DJD helped them would further cement their loyalties.)

    The DJD being zealous Decepticons were more than happy to brand new Decepticon recruits. (Megatron had given them permission.) Nickel was branded too but Kaput was not. Perhaps it was the will of Mortilus, but Necroworld began feeling too frightening for the DJD’s tastes.

    Sensing the change, Censere made preparations for the DJD to leave with some fresh food supplies. As they were doing so, Nickel and Kaput bid farewell to the other minicons, and finally to themselves. The Peaceful Tyranny took off from Necroworld, as they left the orbit, Nickel saw that Necroworld was slowly fading away until it vanished. However, their food supplies remained intact. A few minutes later, Tarn ordered Kaon to warp and get the ship as close to Cybertron as possible.

    After warping, Tarn walked over to the medibay where Nickel was at, holding an emergency phone. Nickel got the emergency phone and called her family back in the city-state of Tarn. She usually called them once a month back on Prion and had been worried that she had missed her chance  to call the previous week due to the unfortunate circumstances. Relieved, she hurried to make the call and chatted for a bit. Smiling she added, “Guess what? I’m not stationed in Prion anymore.”

    Her carrier, an elderly minicon who once worked as a housekeeper for Damus’ family, replied, “They’ve re-assigned you to Cybertron?”

    “No, I’m now with the DJD…” said Nickel happily but her smile turned upside down. “Mom, why are you crying?”

    Tarn looked around nervously, as Nickel’s mom tried to vaguely explain who the DJD were. In the meantime, Kaon decided to set course for the city-state of Tesarus, since they had an important matter to attend to there, for Tesarus’ sake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would love to write what happens on their way to Tesarus but I've run out of ideas on this and I'm not taking suggestions. If I do think of something, I'll update this fic to reflect that, but it would take months or even years before I get around to it. So don't hold your breath.

**Author's Note:**

> I started writing this story back in late-April 2019. (Unfortunately, I forgot to back up the draft that was properly tagged, back in May, so I had to start over.) It was finally completed on 9th of June, 2019.
> 
> Regardless, I hope you've enjoyed what I've written. :3


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